By Al Michael

Said number 9 to petite number 1,
"You poor little thing,
There's not much of you,
You're skinny and scrawny,
And shaped like a bone.
No numbers together will make one of you.
How lonely life must be.
But when you see a full figure like mine,
Bloated with numbers from 1 to 8,
It's no wonder I'm atop of all the rest.

You could multiply yourself a million times,
But you'll still be the same,
Skinny, and scrawny, and shaped like a bone,
How sad your life must be.

If I were to multiply only one time now,
Suddenly I'd be 81,
A number to be reckoned with,
For magically if you add me together,
My number would be as before
A round, and beautiful, number 9.
I'm glad to be this number."

Said number 1 to obese number 9,
"You're pompous and vain,
And fat headed too,
How little you know of me.
For everyone knows how important I am,
To be number 1 is the ultimate goal,
No one wants to be 9.
So show me respect, for I am number 1,
The foremost, prime, sought after number,
How content I am with life."


Al is one of the Poets Unleashed, and they have graciously granted us permission to share this excerpt from their book of the same title. For more information about Poets Unleashed, please see


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